


a bulletproof bond

by thirteentorafters



Series: the summer of 1988 [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Camping, Fluff, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 09:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15704925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteentorafters/pseuds/thirteentorafters
Summary: The best thing about Jonny owning a cabin on Toews Lake was the seclusion.





	a bulletproof bond

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back. 
> 
> no, go on, guess. 
> 
> jk jk.

The best thing about Jonny owning a cabin on Toews Lake was the seclusion.

So what if it took a plane and a helicopter to get out to the lake, and Jonny spent an entire summer having the cabin built in the first place, Patrick didn’t _care_. They were secluded, no reporters were gonna spring up out of nowhere, and there was nobody else for literal miles. Years ago - well, a few, Patrick wasn’t like fifty - the seclusion would have driven Patrick nuts. He had grown since then, liked to think he was mature at least in part. Less people were claiming the opposite these days, but Patrick’s momma didn’t raise no fool; he knew he was lucky. If he hadn’t been putting up so many points, wasn’t driving himself to the edge to make great hockey, they would still be talking about him.

Patrick wasn’t bitter; he was happy, more so than he ever thought he would be, and he was happy to sink his toes into the ground around Toews Lake, even if there was a distinct lack of sand anywhere. The silence, discounting the animals and the water, was such a relief after the circus of the convention, and Patrick was looking forward to a week of just this.

“Hey,” Jonny said, resting a hand on the back of Patrick’s neck. Patrick hummed in the back of his throat as Jonny sunk to the ground, stretching his legs out in front of him. “You’ve been out here a while.”

Patrick didn’t want to say anything, afraid to break the silence he was currently enjoying. Jonny was staring at him, though, and he knew that if he didn’t speak soon, Jonny would do something irritating, or assume he was pissed off. “Enjoying the quiet.”

Jonny’s smile was soft. Everything about Jonny in the summer was soft. Well, Patrick thought, with an obvious glance at Jonny’s lap. Not everything. Snorting to himself, ignoring Jonny’s confused expression, Patrick leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jonny’s lips.

Jonny reciprocated, fingers curling tighter around Patrick’s neck, holding him gently in place, as if Patrick had any intention of moving. He deepened the kiss, clutching at the front of Jonny’s wifebeater, aware of how long it had been since he last kissed Jonny. At least a full morning. It was criminal.

“Easy,” Jonny said with a laugh, tugging Patrick back. His eyes are warm, crinkled in the corners.

Patrick hated the way his chest constricted sometimes, his heart beating like a fucking ten-piece band in his chest just because Jonny was smiling, but fuck. It was getting easier to handle, easier to want this, especially when there was nobody else around to make Patrick question his own wants and decisions.

“Hey.” Jonny rubbed a thumb against Patrick’s jaw. “Where you at?”

“Dunno.” Patrick swallowed, not sure how to begin putting his emotions into words. “Glad we’re here.”

“What, Canada?” Jonny said, with a shit-eating grin because he was a dick.

Patrick pinched his side, ducking in with another kiss to make up for the sting. “Asshole, no. This. You. The quiet.”

Jonny searched Patrick’s face, and seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for. “Yeah. I love hockey, love Chicago, but sometimes.”

“I’ll be glad to get back to Buffalo,” Patrick admitted, because no matter how great a week with just he and Jonny could be, they would kill each other right if it was any longer. “But I like not having to look over my shoulder every second.”

Patrick didn’t know how to interpret the look on Jonny’s face. It was complicated, like everything about Jonny was complicated, but he didn’t seem to be pissed off.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jonny said with a shake of his head, even though it was clearly not nothing.

“Jonny,” Patrick admonished. “What?”

Jonny shrugged, but his eyes darted away from Patrick’s face, so he was clearly trying to figure out what to say. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

That was not where Patrick thought the conversation was going, and there was no way he was going to have it out here, where it was supposed to be just about them and not about the future.

“I mean it,” Jonny said, voice pitched lower.

“I know,” Patrick said, because he did. If there was one thing he did know, it was how serious Jonny was about him. It made him feel like a dick when he couldn’t commit to a decision either way. “I just like it, alright? It’s not that I don’t love you.”

It had taken a long fucking time for Patrick to even admit to that much in his head, let alone out loud. It took even longer for him to say it to Jonny. Patrick would never stop now that he knows what Jonny looked like when he said it; eyes wide and happy, mouth quirked up into a small smile, licking his bottom lip like he’d never get used to it.

Maybe he wouldn’t.

“I love you,” Patrick said again, because it was always worth it.

“I know.” Jonny leaned in for another kiss. “I know what you mean, Pat. We always have this.”

“I could get used to Lake You,” Patrick agreed, smirking at the roll of Jonny’s eyes. “I mean it. I wouldn’t trade this, with you, for anything.”

“Even hockey?” Jonny asked, looking hopeful, but his grin was just on the edge of evil, so Patrick snorted.

“You wish.” At Jonny’s mock-crestfallen look, Patrick decided to be honest. “I can’t separate you, man. Couldn’t choose.”

It wasn’t the kind of declaration that would make other people happy, but it was perfect for them. If Jonny’s expression was anything to go by, Patrick was definitely getting laid tonight and that was without the sheer _love_ shining back from Jonny’s face. Fuck. Patrick couldn’t handle such open affection and he ducked his head, pressed it to Jonny’s shoulder and let out a slow breath. Jonny’s hand slid up into his hair, clutching at Patrick’s curls – and there were plenty left, thank you very much – and kissed Patrick’s temple.

“What’s going on with you?” Jonny muttered, nuzzling into Patrick’s hairline.

Patrick shrugged carefully, not wanting to mess up their position. He liked the easy affection, loved the way his body relaxed into every touch from Jonny. It wasn’t even restricted to these quiet moments but bled into hockey as well, something that had taken Patrick a long time to come to terms with. “I’ve been afraid of this.”

Jonny stiffened. Not enough to concern Patrick, because Jonny knew what was running through Patrick’s head better than he did himself sometimes. This wasn’t going to be news to Jonny, but it felt like the right time. “Which part of this?”

“It being so easy,” Patrick said, keeping his voice low even if there was nobody around to overhear. He kept his hand on Jonny’s shirt, smoothing down the material as a distraction. It didn’t hurt that he could feel Jonny’s abs underneath, well defined and enough to make Patrick’s mouth water even when he couldn’t see them. Shaking it off, he sighed. “Wanting it even when we’re away from here.”

They had it, was the thing. In Chicago, they shared a house more often than they were apart. In Buffalo they would inevitably spend time at Patrick’s house with his family. In Winnipeg, Andree and Bryan were always drawing Patrick into their family life. They’d been together for so long Patrick feared what being apart would mean. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest start for a relationship, but he’d dig his feet in if anyone wanted to take it away from him, would fight tooth and nail to keep it.

“Patrick.” Jonny’s voice wavered.

Patrick wanted to take the words back, wanted to shove them down where they could never escape again. “I love you. I want everyone to know I love you, but I’m scared.”

Jonny used his free hand to touch Patrick’s chin, raised his head so he could look Patrick in the eye. “It scares me too.”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. He wasn’t an idiot; Jonny was better at hiding his fear, maybe, but Patrick knew every twitch of Jonny’s expression, knew how to read his silences as well as the tones of his voice. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Jonny promised, and Patrick believed him. That was the voice of someone who kicked and shoved his team all the way to three Stabley Cups, who believed in each one of them even when they hardly believed in themselves. “Not ever.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

No matter how much Patrick believed him, no matter the trust between them, Jonny couldn’t promise, not with so many outside factors. Jonny could hold on to Patrick for all he was worth, and Patrick could dig his heels in and refuse to budge, but _hockey_. Sometimes it felt as if hockey was all he had. Sure, that went hand in hand with Jonny, but.

What if it didn’t.

What if.

Patrick gritted his teeth, felt the burn in his eyes, and he refused to give in to it.

“Look at me, Patrick,” Jonny said.

Slowly, Patrick raised his eyes to meet Jonny’s.

“I love you,” Jonny said, his tone as steady as his gaze. “They could take hockey from me,” and Jonny’s voice hitched, but he _didn’t look away_. “I would still love you, and I would still choose you.”

Patrick felt as if the breath had been punched from his body. He didn’t know what to do, whether he wanted to cry, or laugh, or fuck Jonny stupid. He settled for fisting Jonny’s shirt in his hand, pulling him in. The kiss he landed on Jonny’s jaw was sloppy and probably gross as fuck, but Jonny let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh, and wrapped an arm around Patrick’s neck.

Was it supposed to feel like they’d had some Earth-moving conversation?

“We can talk about it,” Patrick said, into the curve of Jonny’s shoulder. He wanted to get his mouth back on Jonny, wanted the words to leave through kisses so that he didn’t have to say them. “Making it real.”

Telling people, he meant. Telling the world. Letting everyone know that Jonny was his and his alone.

“Later,” Jonny said, ducking down and mouthing at Patrick’s jaw, his neck. “We have a cabin by the lake, it’s summer, let’s enjoy it.”

“Fuck,” Patrick agreed, slipping a hand under Jonny’s shirt and feeling the strong muscles of his back, the stretch of skin and bone as Jonny moved against him, dick hard against Patrick’s thigh.

Giving it up, giving Jonny up, was out of the question.  

 

 


End file.
